


my body (when it is with your body)

by schweet_heart



Series: Merlin Fic [165]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biting, Comeplay, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Idiots in Love, Love Bites, Love Confessions, M/M, Marking, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Arthur Pendragon, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-26 23:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17150978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: There was touching Arthur, and there wastouching Arthur, and rubbing ointment onto his naked chest definitely seemed like it ought to fall into the latter category. Merlin could handle the ordinary Arthur-touching parts of his daily routine just fine—he had to, in order to do his job—but somehowoiling Arthur’s goddamn nipplesfelt like it would be crossing a dangerous line.Or: In which Arthur has an inconvenient chafing problem, and Merlin ends up helping rather more enthusiastically than is strictly necessary, to the great enjoyment of everyone involved.





	my body (when it is with your body)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arthur_pendragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthur_pendragon/gifts).



 

It was a small enough request, in the grand scheme of things. Merlin had already lost count of the odd, sometimes borderline-intrusive duties he had performed in the prince’s service, from emptying his chamber pots to ensuring every button on his favourite jacket was polished to a shine. He had nursed Arthur when he was sick, tended to him when he was well, and it wasn’t as though he were repulsed by the idea of touching him, especially not when it was for such a good cause. And yet, even so…

 

“You want me to _what_?” he asked again, staring at the prince with his mouth hanging open. Arthur’s expression hardened almost imperceptibly, his jaw setting the way it always did when he was uncomfortable.

 

“Gaius said it might be easier for you to do it,” he said, steadfastly avoiding Merlin’s eyes. “To avoid the mess. It has to be applied before training, twice a day, so that my, uh. So that my nipples don’t get sore.”

 

He said this last bit very fast, as though that would make the confession easier, and Merlin felt a brief twinge of sympathy for him that was quickly buried beneath a wave of panic. There was touching Arthur, and there was _touching Arthur_ , and rubbing ointment onto his naked chest definitely seemed like it ought to fall into the latter category. Merlin could handle the ordinary Arthur-touching parts of his daily routine just fine—he had to, in order to do his job—but somehow _oiling Arthur’s goddamn nipples_ felt like it would be crossing a dangerous line.

 

“I’ll only need to use it for a couple of weeks,” Arthur said, like he knew what Merlin was thinking. “Just until the end of the hot season. Gaius said it shouldn’t be as much of a problem after that.”

 

He looked so awkward and so unsettled by the whole situation that Merlin didn’t have the heart to say what he wanted to say, which was  _sire, I really don’t think this is a good idea_. Instead, he sighed, nodded, and reached out to take the vial of salve that Arthur held out to him, running his thumb over the familiar cursive script that filled the label.

 

“Take your shirt off, then,” he said, figuring they might as well get it over with. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner you can go back to stabbing people with sharp objects, which as we all know is your chief joy in life.”

 

Arthur rolled his eyes, but it was a mark of how grateful he was for Merlin’s capitulation that he didn’t even complain about this mischaracterisation. Merlin unstoppered the little bottle of oil and set it on the nightstand, then gestured for Arthur to sit down on the bed.

 

“Shirt off,” he repeated, and Arthur obeyed, shucking it off over his head and tossing it to the floor. Merlin frowned, momentarily distracted—how many times had he asked Arthur  _not_ to just throw his things around the room instead of folding them like a normal person?—but not even the prince’s slovenly habits could detract from the sight before him for long.

 

Merlin had long ago acknowledged to himself the fact of Arthur’s physical beauty—he defied anyone with eyes not to look at the prince and recognise that much, at least. But long hours spent in Arthur’s company had, he thought, dulled the shine a little, and the quotidian repetition of routine had done the rest. On an ordinary day, he wouldn’t have looked twice at Arthur with his shirt off, except insofar as he needed to in order to go about clothing him. This, however, was about as far from ordinary or routine as it was possible to get, and he couldn’t help reaching out to touch. His fingers were cold, apparently: Arthur let out a hiss and jerked away, shooting Merlin a betrayed look that he tried not to find funny.

 

“Stop being such a baby,” he said, tugging Arthur firmly back into place. “You’re the one who asked me to do this, remember; you can’t chicken out on me now.”

 

“I can if I want to,” Arthur muttered, but he didn’t move away again. Merlin rubbed his hands together for a minute to warm them, then resumed his inspection of Arthur’s chest, brushing his fingertips lightly over the nipples to check for any dry skin or soreness that might be aggravated by the medicine. He was standing close enough that he could see the stir of Arthur’s chest hair when he breathed, the way his nipples, pink and perfect under Merlin’s hands, became tight and stiff the longer Merlin touched them. Arthur held himself very still while Merlin examined him, as though it were taking a great deal of willpower to remain where he was, and it wasn’t until Merlin happened to glance down again that he understood why.

 

Arthur was hard.

 

Merlin’s brain shorted out, one part of him scrambling to find something, _anything_ to say while the other part couldn’t seem to look away from the bulge in Arthur’s trousers. The prince tensed noticeably, grabbing hold of Merlin’s arms when he paused in his investigation, and the two of them glanced from each other to Arthur’s crotch and back again in a way that Merlin probably would have found hilarious had it been happening to somebody, anybody else.

 

“I…I guess you must be pretty sensitive there, huh,” he said, licking his lips and trying to make light of the situation. Arthur’s answering gaze was stormy, but after a moment he dropped Merlin’s wrists and looked away, his shoulders slumping.

 

“Just go, Merlin,” he said, sounding resigned. “I can do it myself.”

 

“No, it’s all right,” Merlin said—too quickly. He felt his face heat. “I mean, there’s kind of a trick to it,” he added, flushing even deeper as Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s fine. Really. I don’t mind.”

 

“Okay,” Arthur said, after a long pause. “If you’re sure.”

 

He settled back onto the bed, letting his legs fall open so that Merlin could stand between them. His nipples were still red and peaked, and Merlin hesitated a moment before he stepped closer, rolling the first one between his fingers gently before spreading oil over it with his thumb. He heard Arthur’s sharp intake of breath, but the prince didn’t push him away, and gradually Merlin grew bolder, pulling and teasing at the small bud as he worked the oil into Arthur’s skin. Once he had it gleaming, he brushed away some of the excess with his fingernail, scraping it lightly over the tip in a way that made Arthur shudder under his hands.

 

“I’m not sure that’s— _entirely_ necessary,” Arthur said, and though the words themselves were normal, his voice came out strained and raw. “Is it? I mean, you could just—smear it on.”

 

“If I don’t do it properly, it’ll soak into your undershirt,” Merlin pointed out, and he was surprised to find his voice wasn’t even shaking. “Those kinds of stains can be impossible to get out.” He waited for the expected retort—that he would just have to spend some time doing laundry for a change—but when he looked up, Arthur’s eyes were closed and his lips tightly compressed, the tendons standing out in his neck as he struggled to hold back whatever he was feeling. “Arthur?”

 

“Shut _up_ , Merlin,” Arthur gritted out, not opening his eyes. “Just—hurry up and finish what you’re doing. Silently.”

 

“Okay,” Merlin said, then grinned when he heard Arthur’s little huff of irritation. He resumed his task, knees brushing against Arthur’s thighs, and proceeded to the second nipple, lavishing it with the same careful attention that he had bestowed on the first. This time, Arthur’s whole body jolted when Merlin used his fingernail, and Merlin heard a soft whimper escape his throat as he rubbed his thumb over the nub in tiny circles.  

 

It was almost unbearably intimate: there was no one in the room save for the two of them, the first rays of early morning sunlight filtering through the windows and the sound of their increasingly laboured breathing filling the room. Merlin could feel a sweet pressure building low in his belly, the warmth of Arthur’s bare skin beneath his fingers corresponding with the blooming heat of arousal in his blood. Arthur’s breathing hitched infinitesimally as his head fell back, his erect cock clearly visible beneath the thin fabric of his breeches, and without letting himself think about it, Merlin bent his head and took Arthur’s nipple in his mouth, flicking it tentatively with the tip of his tongue. The oil tasted unpleasant and faintly bitter, but the sound Arthur let out in response was like a punch to the gut.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he rasped, scrabbling at Merlin’s arms. “Merlin, I—what are you doing?”

 

“What do you think I’m doing?” Merlin pushed him back onto the bed, and Arthur went, looking up at him with wide-open eyes as Merlin straddled his hips.

 

“You—you don’t—this isn’t part of your duties, you know, you don’t have to—”

 

“Do you want me to stop?” Merlin asked, hovering, his mouth mere inches from Arthur’s chest. Instead of answering, Arthur let out a deep groan and tugged him closer, muttering something about incompetence under his breath. Merlin smiled, laving each nipple with his tongue before drawing one into his mouth and suckling gently. Arthur bucked, hands sliding down Merlin’s back to grip his arse, and Merlin rode him shamelessly, rocking his hips with each aborted thrust the prince made under him.

 

Given the way the whole thing had started, Merlin half expected Arthur to be reluctant or even self-conscious about letting himself go, but it seemed that, having been given permission to indulge, Arthur was vocal about his pleasure, letting Merlin know in a litany of gasps and sighs just how much he enjoyed what they were doing. He cursed liberally when Merlin accidentally used his teeth, his hands fisting in Merlin’s hair, and again even louder when Merlin’s hand slid beneath his waistband to find his prick. Merlin wanted to touch him all over, not knowing if or when this privilege might be repeated and desperate to make the most of it while he could, but he only had two hands and one mouth, and Arthur was painfully eager, his fingers tugging a warning at Merlin’s nape whenever the latter's explorations distracted him too thoroughly from the main event.

 

It took an embarrassingly short time for Arthur to come. Merlin would have teased him about it, except he felt dangerously close to the edge himself, his cock throbbing in time to his racing heartbeat. He trailed kisses down Arthur’s stomach through the aftermath, then worked the prince’s sleeping trousers down over his hips and discarded them, licking the traces of Arthur’s come from the seam of his thighs and hips. When he was done, Arthur lay spent and rumpled on the bedcovers, entirely naked, his nipples pink and puffy from Merlin’s mouth and his chest heaving visibly as he fought for breath.

 

“I think you found my weakness,” he said at length, not sounding as though he regretted it. He brushed his thumb over Merlin’s mouth, smearing oil along his bottom lip, then drew him up and kissed him lazily, his nose brushing against Merlin’s cheek. “I think you _are_ my weakness.”

 

“Everybody’s got one,” Merlin murmured back, trying not to sound too pleased about it. He was pretty sure he failed spectacularly. “Even princes.”

 

“Even you?” Arthur said slyly, raising one of his knees so that it nudged between Merlin’s thighs. “What’s your weakness, _Mer_ lin?”

 

Merlin caught his breath, his eyelids fluttering shut as Arthur rubbed up against his cock, and Arthur seemed to take that as encouragement, flipping him over onto his back and kissing him again. He sucked on Merlin’s lower lip for a moment, biting down gently, then transferred his attention to the line of Merlin’s throat, tugging off Merlin’s neckerchief and fastening his teeth over the beat of his pulse. Merlin moaned out loud, shocked into incomprehensibility. He knew what the prince was doing. Arthur was going to mark him; he was going to brand Merlin with his teeth and lips and tongue so that any interested party would know that he was taken, and it was simultaneously both the hottest and the pratliest thing that Merlin could imagine.

 

“Fuck, _Arthur_ ,” he gasped, clinging to Arthur’s back and shoulders and arching up against him. “Fuck, you ass. I touch your cock _once_ and you think—you think I’m—”

 

“Mine,” Arthur agreed, burying his face in Merlin’s neck. “And you _like_ it.” He was all over Merlin now, grinding against him, and Merlin whined high in the back of his throat as Arthur’s naked hips bore him into the mattress. He rutted helplessly into the jut of Arthur’s pelvis, dimly aware that he hadn’t even managed to get his kit off, then Arthur pushed back with a slow rolling motion that had him seeing stars and he came like that, mouth open, his grip going finally slack as he spurted into his smalls.

 

+

 

“I’m pretty sure we got oil all over the bedclothes,” Merlin said a while later, staring up at the canopy. Arthur was a dead weight on top of him, his hair tickling Merlin’s nose. “Gaius will be so disappointed.”

 

“Hmm,” Arthur responded, sounding unconcerned. Merlin could feel the contented vibration of it rumbling through his chest, and there was a smirk in Arthur’s voice when he said, “I guess you’ll just have to clean it up, then, won’t you?”

 

Merlin smacked his shoulder, to which Arthur retaliated by becoming somehow heavier and more boneless, crushing the air out of Merlin’s lungs. He pressed his nose into Merlin’s ear, mouthing experimentally at the outer lobe with his lips and tongue until Merlin shuddered and had to twist his head away so that he could breathe.

 

“Is this going to become a habit?” he asked idly, trailing his fingers through Arthur’s sweaty hair. “Are you going to start coming up with increasingly ridiculous chores for me to do in order to lure me into your bed? Because I would appreciate a bit of advance notice, if so.” He rubbed his filthy, sticky crotch against Arthur’s leg to demonstrate. “You completely ruined my breeches.”

 

Arthur’s stomach jumped, a huff of warm breath gusting over Merlin’s shoulder; the prince was laughing. “That,” he said, “is _not_ what happened here.”

 

“It could have been,” Merlin argued, more for the sake of seeing Arthur grin than for any logical reason. “I’m just an innocent country boy, after all, so easy for a prince to take advantage of—”

 

This time, when Arthur kissed him, it was slow and sweet and he was smiling, licking his way inside Merlin’s mouth like it was the start of something permanent. Merlin felt his breath judder, his arms snaking their way around Arthur’s shoulders without conscious thought, and it occurred to him that if this  _did_ become a regular thing, then he was already a fair way gone towards falling in love.  

 

“You never did tell me what your weakness was,” Arthur murmured when they broke apart. Merlin looked up at him, taking in the warm blue eyes and crooked nose, the slightest hint of uncertainty in Arthur’s face as he voiced the question.

 

There were so many secrets that Merlin was still keeping: his magic, the dragon, the whole issue of their destiny. At some point he would have to tell Arthur everything, to trust him not to overreact or turn Merlin over to his father, and he was under no illusions that any of it was going to be easy. For now, however, the answer was simple.

 

“I only have one weakness,” he said quietly, running his finger down Arthur’s cheek to catch the dimple of his mouth. “And I’m looking at him.”  

 


End file.
